


through the looking glass

by bluebellbygones



Category: Warframe
Genre: Minor Character Death, Other, Spoiler up to The Sacrifice quest, Teshin is briefly there, ordis employs his full motherly power, the operator has identity issues more at 11, the operator has the name the deimos family gave them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26694358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebellbygones/pseuds/bluebellbygones
Summary: “I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”- Alice’s Adventures in WonderlandBetter considered as the aftermath of The Sacrifice quest.
Relationships: Cephalon Ordis & Operator, Excalibur Umbra & Operator
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	through the looking glass

The Infestation bled into their field of vision like melting tar, black strands that crept into the doorway, through the gaps in the walls, making the paint crack with bright red pulsating boils. There was a darker red that had been spattered all over the tile. A neck, slashed open. A child, now dead. His eyes were glassy and terrified, confused and sad, as the light behind them faded in instants; the change drawn out to hours, weeks from the perpetrator’s perspective.

Isaah. His name was Isaah.

“Well,” a voice mildly commented from their side. They whipped around to face Ballas; his eyebrows were raised in polite surprise, and he didn’t seem even the least bit concerned with the Infestation near wrapping around his ankles, nor the recently slain laying limp upon the floor. He raised his less gangly arm to his chin in thought. 

“That was rather brutal of you, Tenno.” he commented pleasantly, blank eyes aglow with a sadistic interest.

— —

Operator Osprey shook themself awake.

They stayed quietly in their pod, soaking in the hum of the somatic link. They had dreams like that often, they always had, but after Umbra had entered their life, the dreams were so much more specific and vivid. Honestly, it was a miracle they’d even managed to pacify him. And though his wounds were grave after the confrontation with the mimics, enough to have him staying at Strata relay for repairs, he was in far better shape than before.

Which left the Operator plenty of time to dream. Of Ballas, of Isaah. Of blood and of black, of screaming both from their son, and from the remainder of their own mangled throat. They could still see their ragged, filthy nails distend into black, flesh flaked talons, curling into Isaah’s neck and pulling it open, to expose the envied organs inside. They still felt the hot tears that spilled down their face as they wished they could beg and scream for something to help, stop them, kill them.

It was such a long time ago.

Their thought was interrupted by the ping of their communicator. The pod opened with its usual clicks and hisses, bringing the Tenno out into the light so they didn’t have to squint in the darkness. A message from their fellow Tenno popped up on screen; an operator that went by the code name ‘Owl’. He often did Synthesis work for Cephalon Simaris, which had him frequenting the relays. As much of a dick move as it probably was, he had checked up on Umbra more times than they had, as they busied themself with tracking down the Lotus, or any other task that could keep them from dreaming more than they had to.

The message they received read:

_ -Operator Osprey, _

_ got umbra all fixed up! he’s waiting for you at strata relay, whenever you can pick him up. he seems to be okay, definitely better than before, don’t think he’ll go ballistic any time soon, so no rush okay? i bet he’ll be happy to see you though. don’t stress too much about lotus either- falcon and heron have been looking for leads too, if you haven’t been talking with them. _

_ i hope you’re doing ok. i heard from ordis you were having some identity issues when you were chasing umbra. remember what margulis said when that used to happen to us? when we started transference? i think about it a lot, and its really important. i see rells memories all the time when im with harrow, but my own sense of self helps me resist the pull. im not him, i don’t want to be him. i connect to harrow as myself while understanding him and rell both and it makes us stronger. i hope you can keep that in mind.  _

_ and make sure umbra is ok before you head back out too! _

_ -Operator Owl _

The Operator sighed. Margulis used to say a lot of things, and many of them were so important. She used to tell them to dream not of what they were, but what they wanted to be; that was what Osprey assumed he referred to, anyway. But where Daelus- Owl- would dream of the memories of a former operator, Osprey had the memories of the warframe himself. Most of the time, they wanted to be their warframe. So where would that leave them, they wondered. What did that mean for them, the person who was insane enough to want to be someone who’d suffered such torment, all for the benefit of not being themself.

They didn’t want to be themself right now just thinking about it. Osprey sighed and reclined into their pod. reaching out to their warframe; as Umbra wasn’t there, they moved into the warframe they’d held closest before his arrival into their life.

Ivara stretched languidly and moved out of the arsenal with slow, strong steps. She was a second skin to them, her past with the Myrmidon so achingly familiar, with the friends who were never remembered only for the survivor to be heralded, shrouded in unwanted glory. No one ever remembered the names of the operators, of the actual Tenno. All they were known by now were codenames. Few even knew they were even human. Unlike the great injustice she’d been dealt, however, this was likely for the best.

Osprey went about their standard busybody work; checking the foundry, petting their kavat, repairing both Dethcube and Helios, feeding their Helminth (who received a small, scolding smack for being caught trying to eat their domestik drone), and finally checking the Nightwave radio station.

The pirate was somehow an incredible comfort to Osprey; her way with words, her distant but ever present support, her presumed desire to always inform them and the rest of the system on the events she saw through the Weave, and her thickly veiled but ever apparent vast amount of knowledge- they often left her station on in the Orbiter, just to hear whatever she chose to say that day. They remembered her revulsion and horror when she told the tale of the Infested emissary, and had respected her all the more for choosing to tell it anyway.

Today, as Ivara flicked the radio on for them, Nora appeared to be in the middle of reading one of her own works. It was fairly common for her to do this when she didn’t have anything to report, and it felt inappropriate to call it a speech, even though for all intents and purposes it was one. Somehow they always struck Osprey as something more like a sermon.

_...and to all the dreamers... you might one day have to stare through the looking glass._ Nora Night’s voice came ringing and clear through the speaker, only occasionally broken by a small whine of weave-made feedback. _Your first time, it’ll probably be smooth, shiny, flawless. Reflecting all that surrounds it just perfectly, even more real and true than the world we stand on._ Ivara and Osprey busied themselves with looking over the offerings currently up for cred on her market scroll as they listened. 

_ I find that to be a scary thought, really; it’s too easy to see the bad, the flaws when you’re suddenly on the outside looking in. And I know there’s nothing quite as terrifying as the you who stares back from the other side. But hold on to-  _

The station cut out in a burst of hard, tinny static, startling Osprey. Wondering whose end the error was on, hoping it was theirs as it would likely be a much easier fix, they fiddled with the switch, trying to adjust the frequency or something, wondering why-

** Rap. **

** Tap.  **

** Tap. **

A knocking on the wall.

They did not even have to turn around to see ‘him’. Ivara froze in her place.

“ **Feeling better, kiddo?** ” Their own voice asked conversationally from the market console he usually perched on. They knew he had to be there, he was always there. Ever since he’d first appeared to them, sitting cheerfully above the Reliquary Drive and waving at them while the Finger tapped restlessly at the glass of the casing. He had looked just like them, save for his eyes- dark, deep red sclera, the color of blood, with blank yellow discs in place of normally blue irises- and he’d taken off their scarf.

He almost sounded like he cared when the question was posed. But they knew that he didn’t, that he couldn’t. That he wouldn’t.

Osprey wanted to ask just what in the hell they could possibly feel better about, but honestly? This was probably the one person who could ever possibly understand. If not for his- its connection to the Void, then with the knowledge that it knew things about them that they’d never revealed to anyone. Not even the other Tenno could understand what it could, they didn’t think. An odd compulsion on their part, but one that gripped them so firmly they couldn’t help what they blurted out through Ivara’s communicator next.

“I killed him.” they told him- it. “Isaah.” They didn’t turn to face it. Not yet.

They heard a shuffle, small hands planting themselves down on the console; it was sitting on it, like it always did. “ **Did you now?** ” It asked. The voice is theirs, but it sounds so much like their father; Ivara tensed just slightly as the hair on the back of Osprey’s neck stood on end, chilled by the familiarity. “ **Is that how you remember it?** ”

They faced him. They stepped out of Ivara, their back to her and faced him. It was in his usual place, sitting hunched and criss cross on the butt of the console, hands at its ankles, rocking slightly from side to side. The eyes were still the same, and the scarf still cast aside someplace. It so easily exposed the ugly, twisted scar, borne of Infestation and Void; a reminder of their failures in Transference. It knew they hated it and seeing it disgusted them more than anybody else.

Osprey looked it dead in the eye, pulling their scarf higher on their face, blue eyes shining with their soft golden light. “Yes.” Their voice was quiet, laden with guilt. They thought of Umbra, patiently waiting for them at the relay, and they wondered if they could ever face him again. After seeing this face, they weren’t sure.

The Man in the Wall grinned, crooked and wide. “ **Good**.” it smiled.

Osprey blinked and it vanished. Navigation hummed and consoles pinged softly; probably more Grineer- Corpus skirmishes, nothing pressing; they hardly registered. Osprey was rooted to their spot, holding back shudders as their stomach churned with an onslaught of nausea, snapping out of it upon eventually noticing the slight pressure against the gaps between their fingers.

Ivara’s hand had moved, lightly clasping theirs, tangling their fingers together; she hadn’t turned, but simply extended her arm back to comfort them with her attempted hold. They grasped back, not turning to face her, ashamed but immensely grateful all the same. Always their anchor, she was.

“Um, Operator?” Ordis piped up, startling Osprey from their train of thought. “Were you- _**losing it**_ \- er, talking to me just now?”

They sighed and untangled their fingers from their warframe’s. “Oh, yeah, that would’ve looked weird to you, huh? No, I- I wasn’t.”

They could hear his frown. “Then... yourself?”

Osprey looked at the console blankly, everything tunneled to surround it, “Yeah.” they answered softly. “I was.”

Silence sunk, deep and stifling. Osprey could swear they could hear the staticky pistons in Ordis’ head chugging, trying to figure out exactly how he was going to respond to that.

“ ...Operator, you should try to rest for a while.” Ordis spoke at last. “There is nothing urgent that requires our attention, and you have been running around the system near nonstop. You should settle for a while so you do not exhaust yourself.”

“But-“

“ _Ayatan_ , I insist.” he said firmly, employing his full motherly power. “Let me take over navigation for a while and take us to Strata relay. We can forgo warp speeds so you can get some sleep.” Upon not getting an immediate acquiescence, he added “Please?”

The operator huffed. “I hate it when you say please.”

“Now you know how I feel.” he answered with a teasing jab. “I managed to capture a recording of the rest of the Nightwave broadcast after it cut out; I know how invested you are in her program.”

“Shush, you.” they said with no fire behind it. “But, thanks. I’ll go listen to it.”

“And you will also be resting, correct?” he said sternly.

“Yeah, yeah I will.” Osprey sighed. “Alert me if anything comes up?”

“I doubt anything will, but alright.”

“Okay.” they slumped, transferring into Ivara and putting her back into the arsenal; they felt bad linking with her for such a short time and for so little purpose, but Ordis would never let them hear the end of it if they didn’t. With her safely tucked back inside her slot, they cut the link and transferred out, back to the darkness of their pod. It hissed and clicked open as they walked out, away from the somatic system and into their barely used quarters covered in knickknacks, from assorted floofs to Ayatan treasures to figurines and children’s drawings, all gathering dust in the same way. They slipped into their bed by the window, turned away from it. “Night, Ordis.”

“Goodnight, Operator.” he answered, voice oddly soft, but he cut off the transmission before they could really think about it.

Gathering their sparse blankets around themself, not bothering to change inti their sleep-clothes, Aya stuck a hand out to the somachord, turned to the Nightwave recording Ordis had mentioned, and resumed the sermon where it left off.

_-But hold on to the idea that mirrors are just panes_. Nora Night’s voice wafted into their quarters, into their ears again. _You are not the mirror, nor the person lurking in it. And if you need to smash it till your damned knuckles bleed to change the reflection to something to your satisfaction, I say do it. It’ll be worth the bandages and blood later._

Aya wriggled down into their blankets, looking at their gloved hands. They started to remove them as they listened. 

_ Take comfort in the fact that glass can be shattered... then shaped. Melted down and twisted and hammered until it’s something sparkling and gorgeous, clear and ringing like a bell, warping the world to the way you want to see it.  _

Their gloves hit the floor and they shucked off their shoes beneath their sheet, kicking them out before turning their back on the somachord and facing the window beside them.

_ The world itself may not change, but I know that you- the crafters, the destroyers, the dreamers- will. When people break their looking glass, they always change. Not always for the better, true, but that’s the case with all plunges anyone could ever take.  _

They could see the orange shimmer of Venus outside their window, intermingled with the purple and teal nebula that swirled the tiny stars Aya was named after. They were reminded of Mars. The forgotten family they found who gave them the name they were missing. 

Umbra was just within a few hours reach. Long forgotten by anyone who had good wishes for him, but given new family. They wondered if it was enough; if they were good enough.

_ And as you all drift out unto the sea of starlight we’ve sailed for so long, I want to leave you with a hope of mine; should the person in your looking glass perify you, shake you to the very core, the very root of your soul...  _

Isaah had seemed like a good soul. A good son. Ayatan wondered how Umbra felt about their absence.

They wondered if he thought they killed him too.

_ I hope you manage to make a few cracks in your mirror. _

Nora ended her program with her usual closing statements. The orbiter went adrift in the rolling waves of the system’s ocean, straying far from the Void for now. Ayatan didn’t dream of anything the entire journey there.

— —

When Osprey awoke next, it was to the fluorescent lights and shining steel of a relay. Strata, presumably. They rolled from their futon onto the floor with a grunt, just barely managing to keep themself from being tangled up in the sheet. They didn’t bother fixing their mussed hair or putting their shoes on; instead, they simply transferred back into Ivara, noticing the link was slightly warmer than usual. Loving, maybe? It was a very vague sensation, hard to pinpoint; they melted into it like a hug all the same. She slinked her way down to the landing craft bay.

“See you in a bit, Ordis.” they called to their cephalon before boarding. He didn’t respond, likely still messing with diagnostics post landing, having not engaged any warp travel on the way there and therefore needing to nake sure the orbiter wasn’t having pressure or insulation issues, so it didn’t bother them any.

Ivara stepped out into the hangar, gilded steps clacking on the floor muffled by the vacuum, before entering the crimson inner sanctum of Strata relay. They hadn’t been in a while, not since Baro’s last rotation; this resulted in a bit of navigation difficulty. “Was the communal area on the top or bottom floor?” they muttered as they poked at the lift controls. “Or maybe he’s with Teshin?”

Umbra and Owl were in fact with Teshin, but instead of being in the conclave, they were parked by the Ducat kiosk, talking with another operative who went by the callsign ‘Falcon’, currently operating Gara. Osprey approached and Umbra perked up, arms unfolding and running forward to greet them.

“There you are.” Teshin said. “We were waiting.”

“Osprey!” Falcon greeted cheerfully. Owl simply waved.

“Sorry. Trip was longer than I thought.” Osprey replied before turning to Umbra. “You doing okay? I wasn’t gone too long was I?”

Umbra shook his head and then bowed. He did look leagues better than before; the exposed patches in the frame had been mended, his faceplate repaired, and even his scarf had been patched up, now adorned with similar ornaments to the ones on Osprey’s scarf.

“It was good communing with another Dax, after all this time,” Teshin said, gathering his sword to his side, moving away from the group. “But I will be on my way. You know where I am, should you need my help again.”

“Thanks, Teshin.” Osprey and Owl said at the same time as Falcon cried out “You’re the man, sensei!” He pointedly walked away.

“Guess we’ll head back now,” Osprey said awkwardly, scuffing feet on the cream tile floor. “Unless you needed something...?”

Maybe they did. The message he’d sent them was weirdly coincidental with the Man in the Wall’s appearance; as if it was responding to their thoughts. They killed Isaah, but at the same time they didn’t. They couldn’t have; not because of any strength of character, but it was impossible given the limitations of both time and space. But it was so real. The skin giving away to the gush of blood washing into the black gnarls of webbing between their new claws, the screaming of both them and their son. And Ballas- even looking at his face had rage springing to the surface, spewing and boiling like a Venus geyser from beyond the blizzard. Smug piece of shit. The mutual satisfaction they’d felt with Umbra as they drove their blade beneath his ribs was far more satisfying a memory to share.

“Thought about what you said, Owl.” Osprey looked at him, at Harrow. At Rell. Owl claimed he tried to distance himself from them while also understanding them, but Osprey had to wonder if what memories they might’ve shared despite these efforts. “I’m... just not sure how to be myself with my Warframe. It’s always better if they’re... part of me. If we feel the same way about things, have the same experiences...”

Owl inclined his head slowly.

“Hell, I’m not even sure what I want to be, but... but...”

“The less degrees of separation you have, the more messed up you’ll get.” Falcon said sagely. Too lightly for the topic of conversation. Osprey gave the Gara a faceless glare.

“The question would be, then,” Owl interjected. “where exactly do your boundaries lie? What parts of yourself stays separate? Like, Ivara. You identify with her, yeah?”

Osprey immediately realized where he was going with that line of thinking. “But I didn’t suffer the injustice she did. I just sympathize with it.”

Owl crossed his arms. “That should be enough, right? You just want to sympathize with what they’ve been through, that’s all.”

He was right. It struck Osprey like a dull pang; they wanted to share the experience. They wanted to...

Ayatan rushed forward out of Ivara in a void dash, a flurry of desperate impulse, throwing their arms around the Excalibur and their mind into the link. Umbra staggered in surprise but returned the gesture anyway. It might’ve looked silly to anyone else, seeing the dark, imposing figure wrap his arms around himself but what did they matter when they lacked context. They still felt his hold through the daydream, a reminder of how their father once held them. Called them ‘kiddo’.

“I’m sorry.” Ayatan whispered into the link. “I’m so sorry. I... your son, I-“

Umbra understood; he always did. _Ballas_. he reminded them. Reminded himself. _Not you. Not us._ The pair sunk to the floor, still in their embrace.

A chink appeared in the mirror, and it was likely better that no one paid it any mind.

**Author's Note:**

> “nora is hard to write, comparing space to an ocean has convinced me the void is warframe’s bermuda triangle, and im gonna beat the shit out of ballas and mitw” were the three mains things going through my head as i wrote this.  
> thank you for reading! ^^


End file.
